


the lovers (how we kiss and kill each other)

by suchbeautifuldoubt



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cunnilingus, Drabbles, F/F, Ficlets, Fluff, Masturbation, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Smut, fic prompts, mark biting, scylla's gay and needy and that's all, top!scylla, we'll add the tags as we go how about that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24227800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchbeautifuldoubt/pseuds/suchbeautifuldoubt
Summary: Scylla feels like her throat is closing up, feeling herself damning every decision she’d made in the past to lead up to this moment, to lead up to causing Raelle so much pain that she looks like she might burst into tears at any moment.“I didn’t lie.”The blonde stops her pacing in front of her, eyes serious and mouth set in a hard line.“Not about Porter?”Shit.//a collection of the bits/ficlets/drabbles that anons tempt me into writing on tumblr.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 38
Kudos: 392





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> howdy, howdy! i figured i'd make all my smutty adventures more accessible via ao3, so here we are. these are all from [my tumblr](https://tallycravens.tumblr.com/)! if you're interested in seeing any of your ideas be attempted by me, you can shoot me a prompt over there and if i'm interested you might end up with something! 
> 
> thanks for reading and i hope you enjoy! <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon asked: "okay but who would initiate the first kiss after arguing?? i feel like raelle would, even if she's super pissed at her but she can't help it 😳"

“You _lied_ to me!”

Scylla can tell that she’s angry. Like, never-before-seen kind of angry. The kind of angry where Raelle’s face gets red and her eyes water with tears of rage that are threatening to spill over and break what’s left of Scylla’s heart right where they stand in the middle of her dorm room.

“Raelle I—” She starts, but Raelle is suddenly two steps closer to her and Scylla honestly can’t stop her eyes from dropping down to the girlfriend’s lips. It’s distracting and conflicting with the terror that’s rumbling in her chest so she takes one step back and starts again, “there’s a lot you don’t understand, so many things I want to tell you and explain.”

Raelle crosses her arms, back straight and eyebrows furrowed as she stares at Scylla. “I’m waiting.”

She has to force herself to take a deep shaky breath, teeth worrying her bottom lip and eyebrows furrowed, “Raelle, it’s not that simple, I—”

A beat of silence, and then Raelle is pulling away to pace the floor of the room, leaving Scylla standing by the mirror – the damned mirror – alone.

The rage is back full force. “You can’t just—I won’t—Scylla, if what Tally told me is true then you have to tell me what is going on. I need to know.”

Scylla feels like her throat is closing up, feeling herself damning every decision she’d made in the past to lead up to this moment, to lead up to causing Raelle so much pain that she looks like she might burst into tears at any moment.

“I didn’t lie.”

The blonde stops her pacing in front of her, eyes serious and mouth set in a hard line.

“Not about Porter?”

Shit. Scylla freezes, eyes dropping from Raelle’s to the ground.

“Damnit, Scyl!” Raelle’s pacing again, faster this time, her hands pressed to her temples.

“It was his life or mine, Raelle!” Scylla tries to step in front of Raelle, reach out and catch her hands, to anchor them with touch in the way they’d always anchored each other when one of them was spiraling. But Raelle just tears her hands away, pressing her palms flat against her thighs as if forcing them down.

“What about everything else?” Raelle halts and turns to look at Scylla, face red and voice raw. “You were going to take me to them?”

Another step closer.

“Did you seek me out that first day? Who is it that wants me? Was any of this real?”

With each question, Raelle gets closer and closer and Scylla doesn’t realize she’s backing up until her legs hit the desk and a small gasp pushes its way from her lungs out of shock at the contact.

Raelle’s voice is shaking and she’s swallowing down tears by the time they’re close enough for Scylla to feel her borderline panicked breaths on her face. “Did you even really mean it when you told me you loved me?”

That one hits both of them the hardest, and it takes Scylla a painfully long three seconds to hurriedly nod and grab at Raelle’s hands, pulling them into hers and gripping as tightly as she can; trying to will the amount of feelings she has for Raelle to be communicated through touch.

“Of course! Of course I meant it, it’s the only thing I know for sure, Raelle.”

She feels dizzy, like the weight of her entire world is hanging on the balance of what she says and she thinks she might puke. It’s happening too fast, she doesn’t have the words, all she knows is that if Raelle walks away right now, Scylla might as well have died at the wedding—it would’ve been less painful than whatever this mess is.

So she settles for the things that scare her the most. “You’re the only thing that I’ve ever wanted to keep. You make me want to be better, you make me think that maybe there is a future worth living for me. For us.”

There’s a wavering to Raelle’s resolve, a softening to her eyes and a small lapse of tension between her shoulders. For a brief second, Scylla thinks Raelle might smile that smile—the one that’s reserved for her in their quietest moments. But that second fades and Raelle says nothing, eyes dropping for a moment before they glance back up, steely and too blue to be fair.

Scylla panics, opens her mouth to try and form the words to bring that softness back but before she can speak, Raelle’s pushing into her, kissing her.

It’s rougher than normal and salted by their tears but Scylla feels herself melting into it fast. She feels her heart speed up and slow down all at once as a small sob tears its way out of her mouth and the aching in her ribcage tilts, turns and tumbles south, transforming into a deep throb that clears her mind of any and all thoughts.

Scylla might be okay with her cover being blown if they just kill her right here in Raelle’s arms, she thinks. She’d be perfectly content to be sentenced to death if the last thing she got to do was kiss Raelle Collar like this. Fuck the Spree, fuck the army. Hell, fuck herself and her poor decisions.

Raelle kisses her like she’s hungry, one hand gripping at Scylla’s side while the other brings itself up to tangle her fingers into her hair, pulling her head back from the kiss so Raelle can move to her throat and bite down just hard enough to cause her to gasp before soothing it over with the smallest of licks. It’s wet and warm and everything Scylla needed to calm the fear in her veins.

She’s in the process of pressing herself harder into Raelle, arching her back and parting her legs just so to let Raelle slip her thigh between when the blonde pulls away. Scylla swears she doesn’t mean to make the noise that she makes, it just slips completely out of desperation and frustration. She’s about to push it again but Raelle holds her head still and is just _looking_ at her, pupils blown and lips swollen from the kiss. The sight is enough to make Scylla jog her hips against Raelle’s with a small whine. 

“I love you too.” The blonde breathes, eyes focused on Scylla’s mouth. “But if you’re lying to me right now, I’m going to walk away and never come back. Do you understand that?”

The thought of that happening spikes immediate terror in Scylla and she finds herself gripping tighter onto Raelle and shaking her head, “No don’t—yes, yeah. I’m not lying. I’m yours. No more lies.”

In hindsight, none of what she said makes sense but Scylla’s brain is operating purely on the primal tug between her legs and the unexplainable rush behind her ribs. But as long as it’s enough of an answer for Raelle – which it seems to be, judging by the way she lifts Scylla up onto the desk and presses back into the kiss – Scylla’s satisfied.

The kiss is messy and heated and Scylla can feel her mind hazing over and the deep warm _wet_ tug of attraction between them which is exactly when Raelle presses her thigh perfectly against the source of her heat and she can’t stop the breathless whine that escapes her.

“Fuck me, please?” She groans, grinding slow and hard against Raelle’s thigh.

And Raelle Collar, that gorgeous smug little shit, has the audacity to smirk against her lips and pull away just enough to ruin the sacred rhythm that Scylla’s hips had set.

“Ask me again.” She whispers against Scylla’s lips, fingers relaxing to gently run themselves against Scylla’s jawline and tracing down to rest against her collarbone.

There’s a part of Scylla, a part that’s hardwired and trained to rebel, that wants to be a brat and just take what she wants. But this is a show of trust, a communication of belief and understanding between the two of them. So, she intakes a small breath and stops attempting to fix the ruined rhythm of her hips for one deep drag across Raelle’s thigh as she pushes closer.

“Please, please fuck me?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon asked: "ok but don't think about scylla touching herself and thinking about raelle after she left her all hot and bothered in 1x02 morning scene or after leaving her room post 1x01 sex scene yeah i think about that a lot"

The door shuts with a firm click and she’s left standing all alone, a weird sense of dread, longing, and lust all tangled up in her stomach.

A heavy sigh heaves from her as Scylla flops face-first into her bed and rubs her face against her pillow, slowly blinking her eyes open to look at where Raelle had been laying not even a minute ago.

Scylla brings her hand up to run it across the area, feeling the remnant bits of warmth from the blonde’s body. It’s strange that it makes the tugging in her heart a little bit firmer, and she chooses to shrug it off and flip onto her back— staring at the ceiling instead.

Bless the Spree for such an easy and attractive mark, but also bless Raelle Collar for her lips and her hands… and her tongue… and…

Fuck.

The memories from last night flood her thoroughly; the thrill of almost getting caught admiring her disguise, the feeling of being pushed back into her room by a smirking Raelle, the rush of being pushed down onto the bed and pinned to it for the following several hours.

Scylla finds herself cursing the army for being so strict on punctuality.

A glance at the clock on her makeshift bedstand tells her she has a little over an hour and a half until she needs to get to the necro facilities.

Perfect.

The pressure between her legs is strong enough that she skips the warmup entirely; it takes her all of five seconds to slip past the band of her briefs and find the source of her stress and lo and behold she’s _wet_. Like, wet enough that there are the tell-tale slick n’ click sounds of her fingers gliding against her cunt as she tries to find the friction she needs to recreate the pleasure from last night that keeps replaying in her head.

Raelle, pressing close and nipping at her throat while those fingers pressed against her stomach and gently scraped downwards.

She tries to imitate that feeling, bringing her left hand up from where it’s nested in the sheets and pressing against her abdomen, dragging down with just enough pressure to force a small sigh of satisfaction out of herself. It’s still not the same, but if she lets her eyes flutter closed as she pictures the cocky smirk on the blonde’s face, she can feel her hips jog up against their will as the tightness in her belly tenses just the slightest.

Ralle’s fingers, firm and strong and _so fucking slow, the fucking tease_ , sliding and flicking just so—

Her hips jump again as she takes a sharp intake of breath when she makes contact with her own clit, already stiff and slightly swollen from the night before. Her eyes are squeezed tight as the memories come at her full force, breaths coming in short pants as she remembers the feeling of Raelle’s fingers deep inside her, curling just enough to hit that spot that made her actually scream.

She attempts to chase that same sensation, but her own hand doesn’t nearly achieve the same level of bliss so she abandons that quickly and goes back to the tried and trusted method of rubbing tight circles around her aching clit.

In her mind, it’s Raelle’s tongue, not her own fingers. It’s a smug smirk and soft lips kissing against her thighs and strong hands holding her them apart as Scylla shakes from the coiling pressure in her stomach. It’s Raelle’s shoulders beneath her knees as the blonde uses her entire body weight to assist in fucking her fingers into Scylla.

It’s a set of piercing blue eyes watching her as her left hand grips tightly into the sheets beside her, while Scylla’s fingers scramble messily against her clit, back arching and cunt clenching around nothing as she imagines Raelle railing her into high heaven and—

“ _Raelle!”_

She comes, the sound of blood rushing in her ears while she moans lowly, the coil breaking and flooding her entire body with something similar to the euphoria from the night before, _but not quite as satisfying_.

Her breath is a little frantic and when she lifts her hand from its place in her briefs, they’re slick and coated completely. A memory flashes in her mind, Raelle cocking an eyebrow and taking her own fingers into her mouth, moaning at the taste as she dutifully cleaned them.

Scylla groans, wiping her hand against her shirt instead and turning to flop back face-down on her bed. The aftershocks twitch deliciously between her legs and she lets out a slow shaky breath, opening her eyes only to stare at the spot besides her where Raelle had collapsed in a heap of sweat and laughter afterwards. It makes her heart skip a small beat and she finds herself biting her bottom lip and scrunching her eyebrows together, musing at the weird tug of affection in her chest.

“Fuck…”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon asked: "idk about you but i would like to see scylla pushing raelle to the bed and sitting on her lap while making out with her in s2 😳 and raelle's hands running from her back to grope her shamelessly oKAY i need it"
> 
> anon asked: "PLEASE write a fic about raelle getting topped by Scylla HARD I feel like there’s not any of that out there my gay heart can’t take it"
> 
> anon asked: "I need a fanfic (preferably a smut) where Scylla notices Raelle’s witch mark and runs her hand Over it and gets all teasy and stuff."

It’s been a long day, and she’s not even the one who has had to suffer through basic training.

Scylla can tell Raelle’s sore and tired the moment she shows up at her door with that lazy smile and soft look in her eyes. The way she presses a little bit longer into their hello kiss and sighs contently when Scylla wraps her arms around her neck and pulls her into a warm hug.

“Hey, you,” Raelle husks, waddling them into the room. She shuts the door with her leg while holding Scylla the entire time and shoving her face into the crook of her neck. “You smell nice.”

“Yeah? The generic commissary body wash really doing it for you?” Scylla laughs, letting herself be hug-walked all the way to her bed, trying not to trip while being maneuvered backwards.

A small _snrk_ of a laugh comes from Raelle as she finally pulls her head out of Scylla’s neck and levels her with a quirked eyebrow and lop-sided smile. “I said _you_ smell nice.”

Well shit, she doesn’t know how to reply to that. Especially since the look she’s being leveled with is so full of warmth and affection that Scylla feels like something’s lodged in her throat and chest. She counts it as a blessing when Raelle lets the moment pass in favor for a soft kiss while pushing her down to the mattress with a gentleness that makes the aching in Scylla’s chest spread to her fingertips.

“Missed you.” Raelle murmurs against her lips, lacing their fingers together and pulling both of Scylla’s hands above her head. 

Who could blame Scylla for smiling into the kiss? The weight of Raelle’s body on hers is addicting and the only reason she stops and pulls away from the kiss at all is that Raelle stretches a certain way and audibly winces, a hand untangling from Scylla’s to press at her own side.

“Raelle?”

“Mmph,” Raelle grimaces, sitting up on Scylla’s lap and sighing, “sorry, Anacostia went hard on us today and I’m already feeling the soreness.”

She can’t explain the sudden rush of… _something_ that pushes through her body but Scylla chooses to shove that, too, into the corner of growing _somethings_ in her heart.

She sits up and rubs her palms against Raelle’s thighs through her fatigues and smiles, “let me take care of you, then?”

It’s like staring directly into the sun, the way Raelle smiles at her, all teeth and squinted eyes. Scylla feels herself damning her entire heart for the way it tries to leap out of her chest.

Back in the corner whatever _that_ is goes. She opts to instead use what leverage she can find to lace their fingers together again and flip them over, pinning Raelle under her. There’s a small gasp of pain and excitement from the other girl that makes Scylla smile down at her.

“Sorry.” She leans in for a small peck against the corner of Raelle’s mouth, pulling just the slightest away, still close enough to feel Raelle’s breath against her face.

“You are not.” Raelle huffs out a quiet laugh, running her thumb gently against Scylla’s as she tries to press the rest of the small distance closer to kiss her again.

Scylla pulls away just before Raelle’s able to reach her goal and the whine of dismay that comes from the girl under her makes her smile wide. “Oh, I’m definitely not. The noises you make? Sublime. Honestly, I think I’m drenched just thinking about them.”

There’s a pause, Raelle’s looking up at her with something undecipherable in her eyes, gaze searching around her face before settling obviously on her lips and licking her own in reaction. “Tease.”

Oh? If she thinks _that’s_ teasing, she’s in for a rough ride.

Scylla laughs quietly, conceding to what Raelle obviously wants by pressing herself back into her, kissing her gently. It’s slow and soft and a little wet, their lips sliding together. She exhales slow through her nose, just to savor the feeling for a little bit longer—the gentle press and pull of Raelle’s smooth lips against her own.

They kiss for long enough that Scylla feels her brain growing foggy and heavy with lust and when she begins to pull away, Raelle attempts to sit up and chase her lips the entire time, failing only because Scylla balls a fist into the front of her shirt and holds her back.

“Nuh uh, private. I’m setting the pace here.” Scylla smirks, bringing her hand up from the shirt to cradle Raelle’s face, run her thumb up along the scar on her cheek and then down her jawline to her chin.

Raelle watches her the entire time, leaning into the touch and pressing a soft kiss to the pad of her thumb when it brushes up to run along her spit-slicked lips before slyly giving a small lick to Scylla’s thumb, taking just the tip into her mouth all the while maintaining heated eye contact.

Well, fuck, okay. She can continue with the teasing after a few more kisses, Scylla decides. She pulls her hand from Raelle’s lips to wrap her arms around the other girl’s shoulders. She presses back into the kiss so fast that it almost knocks them backwards onto the mattress again, but Raelle holds her position, grunting just a little at the stress that the moment puts on her sore abdomen.

The kiss is a little bit faster this time, just a hint more desperate. Scylla can feel Raelle’s hands gripping at the back of her shirt, pulling it up from where it’s tucked into her pants and running her hands against the warm flesh that she finds under it.

She can’t help but hum happily against the kiss, where Raelle as opted to take her bottom lip between her teeth to very gently pull while one of her hands slide down to grab Scylla’s ass with a firm grasp before _squeezing._ The noise that escapes Scylla is bordering on obscene and she has to collect all the shards of her thoughts that suddenly shoot out in a million directions—hips stuttering just a little against Raelle’s lap. It’s an addictive feeling that spawns a couple more jogs of her hip before she feels her will waning and giving way to wanting to hump her way to victory against Raelle’s belt.

Fuck. Shit. She slows the kiss down again, pulling away much to Raelle’s great dismay.

“ _Baaaaby_ ,” Raelle whines, eyes soft and pupils blown—Scylla’s sure that she has a matching expression.

Instead of replying, Scylla unwraps her arms from around Raelle and reaches behind her to grab both of her hands, removing from around her so that she can take the edge of Raelle’s shirt and lift it off of her, catching her bra along the way and whipping both off in one smooth motion. She barely has time to appreciate a topless Raelle before she’s pushing so that the other girl has no option but to collapse onto her back, staring up at Scylla’s smirking face with an expression of amazement.

“I want to taste you.”

Raelle’s face flushes more than it already was and she’s nodding quickly before she can even open her mouth. “Y-yeah, no that sounds good. Please do.”

Scylla would laugh if she didn’t find her so fucking charming.

She leans down to press the softest, most feather-light of kisses to Raelle’s lips as her fingers trace a path down from her throat to her sternum, to her right nipple (where she rests for a firm but slow pinch), to come to a rest against her stomach. The warm palm against firm muscle draws a low moan from the blonde and Scylla smiles against her lips.

Raelle’s groaning softly, hands scrambling for something to hold while Scylla’s kisses very slowly start exploring down her body, doing a thorough inspection of each freckle, scar, and beauty mark that she finds.

Scylla’s aware of her effect on the blonde; it’s borderline torture. When she flicks her tongue into the dip at the base of Raelle’s throat, the other girl arches a little, hips moving fruitlessly against Scylla’s. When she scrapes her teeth along Raelle’s clavicle, there’s a soft intake of breath followed by a long and tortured growl.

“ _Scylla_.”

“Patience.” Scylla chides, moving her hands down from where they were tracing shapes against Raelle’s stomach to very slowly undo her belt—a stark difference to the way Raelle had torn her belt off of her on their first night together.

Raelle takes a moment to kick her boots and socks off while Scylla slides her pants down and both stop to stare at each other the moment everything hits the floor and Raelle is left in nothing but her briefs…

Which… have a very tell-tale wet spot soaked through the front.

Scylla gulps, mouth dry, suddenly parched like she’d just been walking through the desert for three days. But this is a thirst that just water’s not going to be able to sate.

She must be staring for a bit because another small huff of impatience comes from Raelle as the blonde brings a hand to her face, “Scyl? You there?”

With a shake of her head to bring some consciousness back to her lust-addled brain, Scylla nods and turns her head to kiss Raelle’s palm before ducking her head to peck her lips and begin her journey downwards again.

By the time she kisses her way to Raelle’s stomach, just above the elastic of her briefs, Raelle’s breath has grown labored and Scylla can tell that she’s squeezing her thighs together just the slightest to try and relieve the pressure that must be killing her. It’s the sadistic part of Scylla that breathes out a small laugh as she gently kisses right below Raelle’s belly button before running over the area with her tongue.

Raelle lets out a frustrated noise, one hand gripped in the sheets and another trying to achieve _some sort_ of pleasure by pinching her nipples.

Scylla brings a hand up to the front of the soaked-through briefs and just barely brushes her fingertips across—feeling the heat and the vague ridges of Raelle through the fabric, “you’re so wet.”

There’s no response beside a small groan and labored breathing coming from above her, so Scylla turns it up a notch and brushes her lips across the spot, breath hot against the fabric before giving the smallest of licks.

“Nngh, Scyl, _please_.”

There’s something about Raelle Collar saying please that causes a weird rush of saliva in Scylla’s mouth as she presses a firmer, wetter kiss against Raelle through her briefs before gripping the elastic and sliding it down her legs.

_Oh, she’s really fucking wet._ Wet enough that when Scylla pulls the cotton fabric away, it sticks to her cunt just a little before separating with a small strand of wetness snapping between.

“Spread your legs for me?”

She doesn’t even actually finish her sentence before Raelle’s legs are parting for her—the blonde having thrown an arm across her own face to cope with the feelings that are overwhelming her.

Scylla’s mind nearly goes blank at how gorgeous Raelle looks, spread open like this in front of her, face and chest red from simple emotional exertion. She’s knelt in front of her mark, hands slowly caressing up and down Raelle’s thighs, eyes scraping along every inch of skin she can take in. She catches herself trying to remember ever dip and valley, every small detail of Raelle’s body that she can.

“Scylla, I swear to every god if you don’t—”

Raelle cuts herself off with a sharp intake of breath when Scylla presses an opened mouth kiss to the shimmery mark on the inside of Raelle’s left thigh, just inches away from where Raelle needs her.

“So impatient.” Scylla smirks, gently biting down on the witch’s mark before soothing it with her tongue. “I’m just appreciating your mark.” Another lick, a gentle suck—Raelle gasps, fingers clutching against the sheets.

Scylla hums against the mark, pulling away to admire it for a moment before looking up at Raelle who’s staring down at her with the darkest eyes she’s ever seen.

“Scylla, _please_.”

“I think it looks like a flower.”

“If you don’t eat me out right now, I’m not touching you for a week.”

Scylla gasps, affronted, “you wouldn’t.”

Raelle just looks at her with an expression caught somewhere between overwhelming affection and exhasperation. “I wouldn’t. But I might die if your mouth isn’t on me in the next ten seconds. And then I wouldn’t be able to touch you even if I wanted to.”

“Needy,” Scylla teases, brushing her finger against Raelle’s witch’s mark and pressing one final kiss right next to it before moving her attention to where the other girl clearly wants it most. “So you want me to touch you?”

The noise that Raelle makes is enough to almost get Scylla to laugh a little before she caves and finally gives a warm wet lick from the bottom of Raelle’s cunt to right under her clit, just bare grazing her tongue against it. The reaction from the girl beneath her is enough to wake the dead, Scylla’s pretty sure.

She’s going to have to deal with staring floormates tomorrow morning.

She shifts to get a better position, throws Raelle’s legs over her shoulders and pushes in closer to her goal and seals her lips around the already-swollen clit in front of her.

Raelle’s reaction is immediate and earth-shaking. She bites around her knuckles to try and stop the keening moan that tumbles from her and her hips jump hastily against Scylla’s mouth, forcing the brunette to bring a hand up and press her pelvis down so that she can continue working.

She’s hot, wet, salty, and when Scylla dips her tongue into Raelle’s heat just barely, she can feel how tightly she’s clenching for her. It makes Scylla’s head spin and spiral and she has to close her eyes to stop the dizzying feeling.

Raelle’s whimpering a string of words that she’s not sure are forming an actual sentence at all and she can feel her heart swelling with _something_.

She continues for another few moments before pulling her mouth away to suck a bright red mark against Raelle’s thigh, just beside her mark. “You taste really good, baby.”

She receives nothing more than a groan in return, Raelle’s right hand scrambling to tangle itself in her hair while her left hand is busy covering her face in an attempt to stifle her emotions.

“I wanna see your eyes, Raelle.” Scylla whispers, bringing a hand up to Raelle’s cunt, just barely spreading her labia and teasingly scraping against her clit.

Raelle lets out a heavy breath and moves her arm to grip at the sheets, tilting her head to lock eyes with Scylla right as she sinks two fingers deep into her, feeling the delicious stretch and clench of the blonde’s walls around her.

“ _God, fuck, Scyl.”_

“Feel good?” Scylla asks, purely out of pride, as she pulls her fingers out slowly before slamming them back in, causing Raelle’s hips to arch upward.

Scylla’s eyes never leave Raelle’s as she brings her mouth back to her clit, fingers starting up a steady pace that causes Raelle’s eyes to flutter closed a couple of times.

She wishes they could stay like this forever.

The thought catches her off guard and she redoubles her efforts, the quick patterns of her tongue against Raelle’s clit causing the clenching around her fingers to tighten even more as she can feel the wetness slipping down her palm.

It’s… overwhelming.

She feels light headed and has to squeeze her own thighs together as a small moan bubbles up from her lungs and is muffled into Raelle’s core as her eyes fluttered closed.

Raelle just feels so _fucking good_. Like, if Scylla opens her eyes and look up, Raelle’s just watching her with the warmest, most blissed out expression one could imagine. And the hand in her hair is applying just enough pressure to make Scylla’s eyes want to roll back in her head. It’s all so much, especially since she’s not even the one being touched.

“Scylla fuck, I—”

She’d ask if Raelle’s close, but that would mean pulling her mouth away and nothing short of a 747 crashing through her window would be able to do that. So, she carries onwards, matching the rolling of Raelle’s hips with a steady rhythm of thrusts with her fingers, curling just to hit that spot that she discovered a couple weeks ago, and flicking her tongue just quick enough to hear the hitch in her girl’s voice.

_Mine._

The thought strikes her at the same time Raelle’s orgasm crashes down on them. The blonde’s breath gets caught in her throat, her hips cant up and freeze as she arches, her thighs clamping down around Scylla’s head on instinct. There’s a sudden clench and flood of wetness as she spasms around Scylla’s fingers, shuddering the entire time. And Scylla just _keeps going_.

She curls her fingers on each drag outward, fighting the intense spasming of Raelle’s walls, tongue never relenting its lashing of her clit until the girl beneath her lets out a sob and a moan combined into one glorious sound, Raelle’s hand tugging gently against Scylla’s hair.

Her hips fall back down and a series of small twitches start. Scylla pulls her fingers out to lick them clean before pressing a soft kiss to Raelle’s clit, wiping her spit and cum soaked fingers against Raelle’s thighs while she dutifully cleans the mess they’ve made.

Raelle lets out a small satisfied groan, fingers untangling from Scylla’s hair to run down her face and cup her jaw, applying just enough pressure to urge Scylla up from between her legs and to her face, where she plants a long and thankful kiss against her lips.

They kiss for what feels like an hour but is likely to only be a couple minutes before Scylla ducks her head and presses a hot kiss against Raelle’s throat. “You did so good. So fucking pretty.”

Raelle chuckles, hands running up and down Scylla’s sides, “that’s my line.”

“Mm, not today.” Scylla smirks, pressing another kiss against Raelle’s jaw. Then her cheek. Then that spot right under her ear. Until she can take Raelle’s earlobe in her mouth for a tiny teasing lick.

Raelle lets out a small groan and leans into the heat, hands stopping in their roaming patterns to grip against Scylla’s ass to pull her close against her.

It’s not the brunette’s fault if it’s the perfect angle and she can feel her slick cunt throb at the promise of friction as she twitches her hips forward just enough to bump her clit through two layers of clothing against Raelle’s pelvis.

“Your turn?” Raelle smirks, turning her head to look at Scylla with eyes that are far too blue and black all at once.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon asked: "can we get more of bellweather apartmates 🥺"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no smut in this chapter, buddies-- but here's some small soft fluff? not beta'd and only very briefly proofread. any and all mistakes are mine and i live and die by them. enjoy! 😌

Waking up with the sun in her eyes is _incredibly_ low on Raelle’s list of favorite-things-to-wake-up-to. Lower still, however, is waking up to the sound of loud clanging accompanied by muffled curse-grunts.

It’s early, she knows that by the position of the sun, shining perfectly through the slats of the blinds to burn her retinas from behind her eyelids. She lets out a small grunt of dissatisfaction and turns to bury her face into the pillows, finding a small respite in the dimness and cool fabric on this side of her bed.

The peace and wonderful haze of sleep beginning to blanket her again is shattered by another loud clang and audible, “fuck!” come from somewhere beyond her door.

Resigning herself to consciousness, she blinks open her eyes to see her alarm clock – a dull green 7:03 AM staring back at her – and resists the urge to break her own neck in an attempt to achieve more rest. Instead, she pushes her palms into her eyes, pressing with enough pressure to see spots in her vision when she finally drags her hands down her face and opens her eyes.

It’s then that she notices the borderline _heavenly_ smell wafting in from the kitchen. The mixture of vanilla and sugar in the air is what convinces her to sit up, only recoiling a little bit at the chill of the hardwood floor against her bare feet.

Raelle Collar is a lot of things, but least of them all is a morning person; this explains the way she sloppily slides on only a pair of fuzzy polka-dotted socks that Tally got her five years ago (now worn-down and much less fuzzy) and nothing else before dragging her feet into the kitchen, following the scent of baked goods like a 90s cartoon character.

“You’re up!” is the first thing she hears from her right, where Tally’s laying down with her phone resting on her chest and red hair spread across the arm of the couch.

Another clang and Abigail’s head pops into view from behind the kitchen island, where she was presumably messing with their collection of baking trays. The top of the counter is nearly completely covered by baked goods—cookies, muffins, and cupcakes as far as the eye could see—as well as a mess of equipment and ingredients.

“Why the _fuck_ don’t we have an eight by eight?” Abigail complains, tossing an unwanted tray on top of the growing stack.

Raelle pads over to the island and slides onto a barstool, the cold leather against her thighs causing a small shiver up her spine. It’s quickly remedied by a blanket draped over her shoulders by Tally, who slides in beside her with a seemingly magically-apparated cup of coffee.

“We lent it to Libba last month so she could make corn bread,” Tally says, nursing her own cup of coffee. “You threw a fit about her not using a cast-iron skillet, remember? And then she said she was never giving it back.”

Abigail straightens, fire in her eyes as she grabs her flour-smeared phone and marches off to presumably make a call to their friend.

She looks haphazard, Raelle notes as she takes a sip of coffee, like she hadn’t slept and is on the verge of launching into a famous Bellweather Breakdown. Another quick glance around the apartment, noting the clutter of papers and open law books on their dining room table and the open laptop on the floor by the coffee table, and Raelle’s pretty sure that Abigail pulled another all-nighter.

“What’s her deal?” Raelle asks, turning to catch Tally’s gaze, which had been focused on a tray of cookies.

Tally gives a small shrug, “She’s been awake since last night, after her post-exam nap yesterday. I think she’s stress baking while waiting for the professor to post her score?”

“The one that she took less than twenty-four hours ago? That’s stupid.”

“You try telling her that.”

Raelle opens her mouth to respond but she’s cut off by Abigail walking back into the room, looking frantic in the way her eyes are focused on her phone screen in evident rage. “I’m going to murder Swythe.”

“You’ve been saying that for the entirety of the seven years we’ve known you.” Tally challenges, causing Raelle to snicker into her coffee.

Abigail’s face is scrunched up in an angry frown, “I mean it this time! Who _steals_ bakeware?”

“Elizabeth Swythe, evidently.” Raelle says with a smirk, imagining Libba sneaking into their apartment at night in all black and making away with Abigail’s prized stand mixer. The image alone pulls another chuckle out of her.

“Yeah, well—”

Abigail is cut off by the melodic ring of their doorbell echoing through their home.

Raelle’s first reaction is to immediately bring a finger to her nose, “Nose goes!”

Tally has also successfully touched her finger to her nose and the two of them turn to look at Abigail, who’s dusted in flour and frosting despite the apron that was meant to keep her tidy. The look on her face is enough to encourage both Tally and Raelle to spin back around to stare at the counter while she stomps to their front door.

When she’s out of immediate earshot, Raelle raises an eyebrow at Tally over her mug and basks in the laughter that comes from her friend.

“What’s she even going to do with all of this?”

Tally shrugs, “Charming her friends in the Spee Club, probably.”

Raelle cocks an eyebrow, snagging a cookie off the cooling rack and taking a bite despite Tally’s excited and scandalized expression.

“She’s going to _kill_ you!”

“The Spee Club is an antiquated bunch of elitists who deserve no love.” Raelle says, mouth full of perfectly chewy snickerdoodle, “those stuck up brats can suck my—”

“Guys! 3B’s here!” Abigail’s voice cuts her off and Raelle freezes on the spot, half-eaten cookie dropping onto the countertop while Tally gasps in excitement.

Tally’s immediately moving, pulling Raelle from her seat and shoving her towards their front door regardless of the way Raelle’s resisting her and holy _fuck_ when did Tally get this strong?

Raelle shoves Tally a little and clings onto the blanket around her shoulders, panicking. “I’m not _fucking_ … wearing…” she gestures hurriedly to herself and drops her voice to a whisper, “ _pants!”_

Tally and Raelle stand in the middle of their apartment, quietly bickering at each other for a brief moment until Abigail walks back in, a familiar guest following behind her.

There are moments in life when Raelle wishes the ground would crack open and swallow her whole. There are _other_ moments when Raelle wishes she could go back in time and stop herself from existing at all. This would be one of those times.

Scylla Ramshorn—resident of apartment 3B, local bookshop keeper, and woman of Raelle’s dreams—is standing in their apartment with a warm smile looking like a model in her form-fitting jeans and comfy sweater. Meanwhile, Raelle’s in nothing but a grey shirt and her boxer briefs, cookie crumbs on her face, and hair messily pointing in every direction.

“Uh,” Raelle smiles, realizing she hasn’t brushed her teeth yet and wanting to _crumble._ “Hi! What brings you ‘round here?”

Abigail gives her a withering look of embarrassment and chooses to walk away to tend to her army of baked goods.

The laughter that chimes from Scylla is divine; it’s songlike and warm—it makes Raelle incredibly aware of how underdressed she is in her own home.

“I just came over to borrow some sugar.” Scylla says, “I ran out and forgot to pick some up. I hope that’s okay?”

Raelle’s about to rush to go grab some sugar in order to hurry through this mortifying experience but Tally’s gone in a small whip of wind with a, “I’ll go grab some!”

And suddenly she’s stuck: pantsless, standing in front of her crush, and trying to figure out what to do or say that won’t make her look like any more of a dweeb.

“So… sugar, huh?”

Raelle considers packing up and moving back to live with her dad in North Carolina all just to never have to see Scylla or embarrass herself in front of her ever again.

But Scylla just smiles at her, expression stuck somewhere between amusement and _something else_. “Yeah, I need it for my coffee. I know some people are purists and refuse to take it with cream or sugar but I’m a two creams two sugars type of girl.”

“Noted.” Raelle whispers, pulling at the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

“Sorry?” Scylla says, stepping closer, “I didn’t hear you.”

Scylla’s eyes drag up and down her body and Raelle suddenly feels even more naked than she actually is.

“Oh!” Raelle panics, “I said, ‘cool beans.’”

The way Scylla tilts her head and smiles should be illegal.

“Like. Coffee beans. ‘Cause you’re making coffee?”

Scylla opens her mouth to reply but seems at a loss for words. Raelle thanks every single higher power she’d ever even heard of in passing when Tally swings in with a small container of sugar and hands it to Scylla while mouthing, ‘ _Cool beans?’_ at Raelle.

“Hopefully that’s enough to last you until you can go shopping again!” Tally supplies shortly after Raelle gives tired shrug in response.

“Thank you! This is plenty, I’m sure I won’t be bothering yo—”

Scylla’s cut off by a high-pitched squeal from behind the kitchen island and all three girls turn to see Abigail bouncing up and down with her phone clutched in her hand.

“I passed! Top five! I get a guaranteed spot in her Supreme Court litigation clinic next semester!” Abigail all but screeches. “Take _that,_ Swythe!”

Raelle nods in pretend understanding, “That’s great, Abs.”

“Great?! More than great! I don’t have to wake up at six in the morning to attempt to register!” Abigail’s setting her phone down and moving towards them at an alarming speed, skidding to a stop with bright eyes and a huge smile. “We’re celebrating tonight!”

Scylla, taking this as her cue to go, gives a small nod. “Congratulations. Thank you for the sugar, I’ll get out of your hair and let you celebrate.”

“Ooooh, no no.” Abigail reaches out and grabs Scylla by the arm.

Raelle muses at the ease with which she does, knowing that she herself has struggled to find an appropriate reason to even brush shoulders with Scylla every time they’re down in the laundry room alone.

“You’re invited. Tonight! I’m treating all of us to dinner and drinks!”

“I don’t want to impose—” Scylla starts, shy smile on her face.

“No! I need all three of you there to shower me in praise for passing this exam and basically guaranteeing myself a spot as the youngest Supreme Court Justice in the history of the United States.”

Abigail’s victory speech continues, but Raelle has already tuned out, focusing in on the way Scylla offers her a sympathetic smile as if to ask, “ _is she always like this?”_ to which she can only apologetically smile and shrug.

“Oookay, Abigail, you’re scaring our neighbor.” Tally says, grabbing Abigail by the shoulders and pushing her towards the bathroom. “Why don’t you go shower and take a nap so you have energy to celebrate tonight.”

“I feel great!”

“You smell bad.” Tally deadpans.

It draws an offended gasp from Abigail, who finally relents to Tally’s pushing and moves into the bathroom. The door gets shut and they hear a muffled, “Okay but we’re taking victory shots when I’m clean!”

“Does she know it’s seven in the morning?” Scylla asks, joy and delight in her voice.

Raelle can’t help but laugh, “I don’t think she knows anything other than her name at this point.”

Tally moves to go clean up the mess of equipment on their kitchen counters. “She _is_ serious about celebrating though. You should definitely come over later tonight—help us make sure she doesn’t repeat what happened when she got accepted into Harvard.”

“What did she do?”

“Let’s just say we’re not allowed in any of the 7-11s downtown.” Raelle offers meekly.

Scylla nods in disbelief, mouth open in a charmed smile, “noted.”

She laughs and Raelle finds herself chuckling along. Scylla’s laughter is infectious, it carries with it a sort of mirth that’s all-consuming and entirely soul-warming.

“So, see you tonight?” Raelle asks.

Scylla gives a loose shrug, “As long as you’re there.”

At a loss for real words, Raelle only nods.

“Cool beans.” Scylla smiles, eyebrow quirked.

“Cool beans.” Raelle mirrors, trying to ignore the way her heart speeds up tenfold. She can feel the blush crawling up her neck.

And then Scylla’s walking out of their apartment and Raelle’s just _watching_ her go. She vaguely registers someone coming to stand behind her, but it doesn’t stop her from leaping several feet in the air when Tally giggles and bumps her hip.

“ _Cool beans,_ huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments water my crops and keep my depression at bay!  
> find me on tumblr [@tallycravens](https://tallycravens.tumblr.com/). 💕


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon said: "A small continuation of “brainwashed” 👀 a small moment where Scylla helps to calm down Raelle, the first time Raelle attempts to touch her. But her hands start to shake uncontrollably with a bad headache. Scylla comforts her by being forehead to forhead with Raelle and telling her to concentrate on her smell to get her to relax."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *staind voice* _it's bEEN AWHILE_.  
> this is a piece that will make no sense unless you've read the previous bulletfic entries over on tumblr!  
> you can find parts 1-4 [here](https://tallycraven.tumblr.com/tagged/brainwashed-au/chrono). :)  
> unbeta'd n' barely proofread 'cause these never are.  
> enjoy! 💖

Raelle still feels like a monster sometimes, Scylla knows. She’s seen moments where Raelle flinches at her own reflection or adamantly avoids looking at it. She’s watched Raelle double and triple-check her pockets and make lists for the smallest of tasks. All things to help herself stay stable; all things recommended to her by her therapist. 

Scylla also knows that Raelle tiptoes around her. She treats Scylla like the most delicate of snowflakes on a bright sunny winter day and almost never lets herself touch Scylla the way she wants to. And Scylla understands. She gets that it’s hard and painful and takes time. It’s not like she doesn’t have scars from what happened. 

So, she survives on grazing touches and brief hugs, prolonged contact through clothes when they sit close to each other. She lets herself miss Raelle’s kisses and imagines the day that Raelle will finally let herself touch Scylla again. She remembers and relives their first time together, their second time, all the times after that, waking up in the same bed and feeling Raelle’s fingers press hard into her hips. 

It’s nothing close to reality, but it’s enough to keep Scylla grounded.

_"Healing takes time_ ," Tally said once, when she and Scylla were waiting for Izadora to finish helping Raelle with her weekly fixing session. " _No matter how much you want her to give it to ya."_

Scylla giggles at the memory; remembers the way Tally had wiggled her eyebrows and shifted her hips in an attempt to entertain her. 

“What’re you laughing at?” Raelle asks, head perking up from looking at the comics in the newspaper in front of her. 

They’re settled on the couch in the Bellweather beach estate— a house that’s become a home for the four of them over the past few months. Scylla’s been spacing out, repeatedly reading the same paragraph in some book Abigail gave her for the past ten minutes and intaking none of it, while Raelle’s been going over the Sunday paper. 

(Keeping up with current events is a good way to stay present, according to some Fort Salem-assigned brain fixer; but Raelle only ever reads the comics and half-asses the crossword.)

They’re sat by each other’s sides, like usual. Close enough that Raelle’s knee can bump into Scylla’s thigh whenever she shifts.

“Oh, nothing.” Scylla smiles, moving so she’s sitting with her legs crossed and facing Raelle, choosing to give her a tiny bit more distance between them. “Just remembered something Tally said.” 

The crinkle the forms between Raelle’s brows is downright endearing. 

“What’d she say?” Raelle turns to mirror Scylla’s posture until they’re both facing each other on the couch with their legs crossed.

Scylla weighs her options briefly before remembering that truth is a virtue that she’s been learning to master. Especially when it comes to Raelle. 

She takes a small breath and smiles. “Uh. Said that you’re gonna need time and I should be patient about wanting you to touch me until then. Which is absolutely true and I’m willing to wait forev–”

“I do want to touch you.” Raelle says, quickly and all in one breath so that it comes out sounding more like ‘ _Idowannatouchyou.’_

It takes Scylla’s mind a little bit to catch up, deciphering the words that sounded for a brief moment like another language and then unraveling the bundle of emotions that said words have given life to in her chest.

Scylla must spend too long looking at Raelle in wonder, because Raelle’s suddenly beet red and staring down at her hands. They’re trembling, but it’s not the worst that they’ve seen. She’s made a lot of progress.

Raelle presses her palms against her thighs and takes a deep breath. 

“I do want to touch you.” She repeats, this time slower. “It’s just. M’nervous.” 

The emotions in Scylla’s chest melt into something soft and sad and full of love. She scoots herself a little closer to Raelle —slowly, of course— and holds a hand out, palm up, and waits. 

Raelle looks from Scylla’s face to her palm, recognizes the offer and places her own palm by it. 

Scylla traces a familiar ‘S’ and watches its twin bloom in Raelle’s palm. She lets it fade slowly before grazing her pinky along the side of Raelle’s hand and very slowly brings her own hand against Raelle’s. 

The tremors are smaller now, but Scylla’s focusing on the touch of Raelle’s hand against hers. The pads of her fingers pressed against the base of Scylla’s palm and the warmth of Raelle’s own palm radiating against her fingers.

Scylla shifts ever closer until their knees bump and stay touching. She’s watching Raelle’s face to tell for any telltale signs of the need to run and finds only concentration.

Raelle’s taking slow but shaky breaths, eyebrows furrowed with her jaw tensing and untensing. For a moment, Scylla considers pulling back. But she knows that would upset Raelle; it would launch her into a cycle of blaming herself for not healing fast enough.

“Is this okay?” She asks instead.

Raelle’s nod is hurried. “Yeah, it’s good.”

She presses forward some more, leaning so that her forehead bumps lightly against Raelle’s. She can feel Raelle’s unsteady breaths and the tension in her temples. Her hands are starting to shake more despite how hard Raelle is staring at them.

“Hey, focus on me, yeah?” 

Raelle swallows and stays silent, clenches her eyes closed in that way she does when the headaches start to pick up.

Scylla takes her hands in her own, fully now, lacing their fingers together and letting Raelle manage the tightness of the grasp. It’s slow and careful, but Raelle holds on tightly while Scylla rubs gentle circles against Raelle’s thumb with her own.

“I love you.” Scylla whispers. “I love you and I’m real and you won’t hurt me.”

Raelle’s breath catches at that and her eyes open for a split second before slamming shut again, tighter as she tries to push away memories of cold bodies and betrayal and violence unbecoming.

Scylla backtracks. She brings Raelle’s hands up to her lips and presses soft kisses to her fingers.

“Stay with me.”

Raelle swallows and nods, eyes closed and hands clenched around Scylla’s.

“Do you hear the ocean?”

A nod.

There’s a window open somewhere, letting in the sound of the Atlantic’s waves crashing against the shore.

“Can you feel my hands?”

Another nod, hesitant.

They sit in silence like that, hands together and pressed as close as Raelle’s nerves will let them. Minutes tick by and Scylla’s lost in the warmth of being so close to Raelle. She finds that she’d be okay if they just stayed like this for the rest of forever.

Raelle’s voice is quiet when she finally speaks. “You smell nice.”

Scylla can’t help the small laugh that bubbles out of her; can’t explain the tears that spring forth from her eyes or the way her chest tightens with incomprehensible affection.

“New shampoo.” She supplies in what she hopes to be an easy fashion.

Another minute passes and Raelle’s hands have stilled and her breathing is slower, calmer.

When Raelle speaks again, it’s with a new kind of nervousness. Something more innocent, less rooted in fear.

“Can I kiss you?”

Scylla would scold herself for nodding like an eager teenager if she weren’t already tilting her lips and catching Raelle’s between them.

It’s slow and careful, like Raelle’s learning how to kiss Scylla for the first time. It’s so polarizing and different from the first time they ever kissed that Scylla’s brain is doing looping circles. She’s trying to remember this moment, seal the way Raelle’s breath catches when their lips meet as a gasping rush of hot breath pushes itself past her own. Just in case Raelle needs to pull away for space again.

Scylla tries to memorize every push and pull; to be slow and careful instead of giving in to the base _need_ for Raelle that lives inside of her. Of course, her body wins out—like it always does—to the feeling of Raelle against her, dropping her hands to pull Scylla onto her lap with a whispered, “ _Is this okay?”_

Which, yes, _yes_ it very much is okay for Scylla but she just has to check with, “Is this okay for you?”

Raelle’s hasty nod bumps her nose against Scylla’s and draws twin laughter from both of them before they meet in another kiss. Still slow and careful, but deeper this time as Raelle’s fingers spread across the small of Scylla’s back and press firmly while she gives an exploratory lick into Scylla’s mouth.

And _gods_ after months of grazing touches and second-long hugs, Scylla thinks she might melt under the heat of Raelle’s kiss.

Slow and shy has given way to greedy want; Raelle’s hands grasp tightly against the back of Scylla’s shirt and they’re properly pressed together now. Scylla can feel the hard lines of Raelle’s muscles through her shirt, lean and lithe and so fucking unfair. 

She can’t stop the borderline-sinful groan that escapes her when Raelle cants her hips up instinctively to press deeper into the kiss. She’s _humming_. Her body’s pounding in time with her heart in a way that she can feel the desperate beat in her fingertips.

And then Raelle pulls away, eyes clouded but worried and careful.

“Are you okay?”

Scylla’s breathless, confounded at how _kisses_ could render her body into a mess of pulses and need. But she manages the nod and smiles, drawing slow breaths of oxygen into her grateful lungs.

“Sorry, that…” she huffs a small laugh, “wasn’t what I was planning, I promise.”

Raelle has fallen quiet again, pulling her bottom lip (kiss-swollen and so _so_ tempting) between her teeth and sucking on it for a second.

“I’m sorry if I rushed—” Raelle starts.

“No!” Scylla cuts her off, hands coming to rest on Raelle’s shoulders as she shakes her head. “No, no, it’s okay. I’m okay. Are you?”

Raelle draws her lip back between her teeth and bites, her brows furrow but her eyes never leave Scylla’s.

Scylla immediately shifts when Raelle doesn’t answer, already moving to climb off her lap, but is stopped when Raelle’s hands grip and pull her back against her.

“No, I’m—” Raelle husks, “Please stay?”

All Scylla can do is nod, eyes scanning Raelle’s face for signs, anything that’ll tell her what to do.

She smiles softly, brings one of Raelle’s hands up from her hip to her lips and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles. Her other hand finds its way to Raelle’s face, brushes carefully along the jagged scar on her cheek while Raelle leans into it.

“Slower?” Scylla asks.

Raelle nods, eyes fluttering closed. “Thank you.”

Their calm is disturbed by the sound of the front door opening and closing followed by the footsteps of the only two people it could be approaching the living room.

Scylla can’t even bring herself to move off of Raelle, it’s too warm and comfy, so she just braces for what comes next.

“It’s about damn time.” Comes Abigail’s voice as she falls backwards onto an armchair opposite them.

“Abigail!” Tally scolds, trailing in after her while shedding her jacket. She turns to Scylla and Raelle (who’s adamantly staring at Scylla’s collarbones instead of paying attention to her unit mates) with a smile, “Congrats, you two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments water my crops and keep my depression at bay!  
> find me on tumblr [@tallycravens](https://tallycraven.tumblr.com/). 💕


End file.
